The Kazoo Catastrophe

Wow, I kinda dropped off the face of the Earth there for a bit, didn't I? Well I think I'm back. I want to be back. I'd love to be back every day, but that might make things a little crazy. Well, that might make me a little crazy. As it is, I finished the dishes and I thought, Self, you can reconcile your bank account like a good little girl, or you can write a blog post. I'm over a month behind in my bank rec. That's not going to be any different tomorrow, now is it? Kind of like sticky floors. They can wait.

Ah, the patience of chores waiting to be done.

On to the Kazoo Catastrophe.

I picked the kids up from daycare on Friday, and I thought that since it was K2's Birthday Party this weekend, K1 might like to stop at the toy store and pick something out for his brother (and yay, K2 gets to wander around!). 

I laid down the law of a quick visit to a toy store, and K1 (who's 4) agreed with them. K2 of course agreed, but he's just 2, so you always take that with a bit of skepticism. 

Now, this isn't just any toy store. It's not the big-box giant that sells what everyone else sells. It's not the mega-aisles at Wal-Mart. It's a tiny storefront that's jam-packed with real toys like Thomas the Train sets (the wooden ones) and Play Mobil and Melissa & Doug and creative toys (and I'm sorry, I don't have girls so I didn't look in that spot too clearly--probably special dolls and oh! Horses. They had lots of horses) and perhaps best of all, real sets of Lego. Not the sets that must be built a certain way and can only be made in to one thing, but actual boxes of random pieces! Like when I was a kid. Which feels like fifty years ago, but I swear it's not.

So, of course my kids gravitate towards the Thomas table that's set up in the back, and they're playing and not really looking at other toys, and so I drag K1 off to find a bath toy for K2, which he does and it's so cool that I want to have a bath just so that I can play with it (seriously, it's that cool). 

So then I try to round up the kids towards the front. I tell K1 that he has five minutes to pick something out to spend his allowance on, and of course he's too busy playing with the cool baby toys, so I decide that I'll pick, and I spy some Kazoos. Inexpensive, and they sound like fun.

I pay for the gift and the Kazoos, I (literally) drag the kids out to the car after prying toys that we haven't paid for out of their hands, ask K1 politely to get in to the car please, pick up K2 and realize that he's shit his diaper, ask K1 a little more firmly to please get in the car and for the love of all that makes Mommy happy please stop crying I said we had to go. I get K2 in to the back of the car, give K1 a lot of heck for not getting in to the car in a parking lot, hello, get him in the car, change K2's diaper without any wet cloths, yay, in the dark, double yay. Get him in his car seat, get K1 buckled in, and finally oh my goodness, Mommy where is our KAZOO?!

I pull out the kazoos, show the kids how they work (you have to hum to get noise, not just blow air through them), and get in the car. 

Hell. I'm in fucking Hell. But it's kind of a funny Hell, if you have a sense of humour.

I start driving. 

K1: I didn't WANT a Kazoo!

K2: Phhh. Phhhh. Mommy! Phhhh.

Me: Well, next time I say pick a toy, please pick a toy.

K1: But I don't want a Kazoo.. Whaaaawahaaawaaaa. Taaaake it baaaack.

K2: WhaaaaAAAAAaaaaazzzzz. KZzzzzzz. Phhh. Mommy!

Me: We can't take it back. You had your mouth on it.

K1: We can [hic] wash [hic] it!

Me: No. If you really don't want it, give it to me and you can get something else next time.

K2: Phhhh Zzzzzzz Phhhhh.

K1: NOOO! 

Me: Put it in my hand please.

K1: Noozzzzzz (crying in to the Kazoo).

Me: Hey, that sounds pretty good. 

The next twenty minutes are spent listening to K1 cry with and without the kazoo (with is much nicer on the ears) because he hates the kazoo but he doesn't want to give it back and he keeps trying to make music with it, and listening to K2 cry because he can't quite make it work, and every time K1 cries, K2 has to, and I'm pretty sure that by the time we hit the driveway they were both crying on purpose through the kazoo. Wackos. 

Moral of the story: Don't take your kids to a toy store for fifteen minutes on a Friday night when they're tired and hungry and you don't have the proper means to clean up poop, remove the poopy diaper from your car as soon as you get home or you'll hate your forgetfulness come the next morning, and if they tend to be whiny and cry-y on a drive home, get them a kazoo. Crying sounds much better.

BMBR: Never Buried by Edie Clare

This delightfully well written mystery was one that I picked up when I was trolling for free e-books, and it was good enough that I bought the second in the series, Never Sorry, for $3. 

Random Thoughts 2014-10-31

Happy Halloween!

I got tired of struggling to get K1 out the door in the mornings, so I decided to give him some responsibilities for the mornings. I was thinking that getting up without whining, getting dressed, going potty, and making sure that he had his favourite blankie would be great responsibilities for a 4yr old. I asked him what he thought his responsibilities should be. His response was, "I think that my responsibilities should be sleeping in the mornings."

Oh sure, I know that really, he only thinks that for weekdays. These guys don't believe in sleeping in on weekends. Ever.

I made an egg-nog cheesecake last night for no reason. I froze most of it. Don't be jealous.

I want to do the NaNoWriMo thing. 50k words in a month, and it's just a rough draft. So, basically, verbal diarrhea that gets cleaned up later.

If I do it on weekends, that's only 5000 words per day. What is that, like 10 pages? I can do that. I just have to let something else go:
1. Housework. My mom would freak out, but she judges as it is so I have to ask if I really care.
2. Kids. Nope. Try number one, above.
3. Cooking. Uh, no. Gotta eat or I get cranky. Gotta feed the kids or they get fucking whiny. Can't afford to eat out all the time unless I give something up like housing, so no.
4. Work. Kinda like living in a house and being able to heat it in the winter, thanks.
5. Exercise. I'm way too fat and out of shape to give that up. I should probably start, though.
6. Sleep. See number 3 above.
7.  Hubby time. He's really good in bed, so no.

I guess someone else can clean my house. And maybe cook. But I'd still have to do most of the writing at night, which would interfere with numbers 6 and 7. I might be able to combine 5 and 7 to save time...

I'm also really tempted to do it using my favourite muse.

That would be super fun. Coming soon: a book about white-ass vampires who have struggling writing careers in New York, but really they're also aliens who come from a planet that not only has one culture on their entire planet, but they also have the exact same political issues that we do! Sounds so totally awesome, I know.

I'm looking forward to the kids' gymnastics tomorrow. Especially K2's parent and tot. I love it when he freaks out and smashes his face to the floor and cries and screams because he's overwhelmed or frustrated or just plain isn't allowed to do exactly what he wants right now. Yup. I'm that parent with that kid. Fuck me I'm not looking forward to that. I have enough PMS on my own right now, thank you very much.

Breville is going to kick Kitchenaid's ass.

Well, my random thoughts are starting to go to sleep. Ciao.

Learned Behaviour

Once upon a time I had a friend who told me that I was passive aggressive. I asked her what that meant because I honestly had absolutely no idea. She wouldn't tell me. I was supposed to figure it out for myself, or something. I don't think that that tactic worked out in her favour.

It was a while before I remembered to look it up, and even when I did, I could never completely understand it. I certainly had no idea how to fix it. I didn't even know what behaviour of mine could be considered to be passive aggressive.

Looking back on the friendship now, I can see how my lack of assertiveness skills when trying to effectively stand up to the Queen of I Must Have My Way Or I Will Get Super Angry With You would make me feel like a failure every time, which in turn would frustrate me to the point of total exasperation with the situation, which then would, most likely, lead to passive aggressive behaviour on my part.

A few years and a failed friendship later, I've been trying to be a better communicator. It's been really hard.

Why?

Because I'm a whiny little bitch.

As in, I cry if anyone gets upset with me in the slightest. That tends to make assertive communication a little difficult. This in turn makes me look passive aggressive. It's difficult to speak when you're crying, so the only way left to communicate is physically, and that can definitely come across as passive aggressive. It's amazing how much frustration can come across as anger.

And, I'm a bit of a ticking clock. You know, everything is fine, even when it's not, but no biggie. Until I get too tired to hold it all in.

I often wondered why I was, and still am, this way. Was I just too shy as a child to learn how to stand up for myself/my wants/needs effectively? Did decades of being told to ignore my younger brother when he teased/tormented me instead of learning how to "use my words" leave me with absolutely zero skills? Or, did I somehow learn this behaviour?

It's probably a combination of all three, but I definitely know where I learned the behaviour. And, it only took sharing a house with my mother again to see it.

Now, don't get me wrong--I love my mother very much, and nothing said here negates that. It's just, well, holy fuck.

How is it that someone with tons of training and experience in the fields of effective communication and assertiveness skills, and who often regales us with stories about how wonderfully she asserted herself at work can come home and very clearly communicate that she's upset about something (most likely the imperfect state of the house, or that it's 8pm and the kids are still up, or that she caught a cold. From the kids) by scrubbing the shit out I of something that's not even dirty and slamming cupboard doors, all with a sour look on her face, but never tell us what is bothering her and denying it if you ask her outright?

If anyone else acted like that, the judgment and the admonishment would rain down.

I now know exactly where i learned to deal with frustration. And holy fuck, do I ever need to change!

The first step is admitting that I have a problem.

Now I just need to learn how to say what needs to be said to be assertive.

But maybe I need to learn ho to not cry at the drop of a hat, first.

BMBR: Anne Stuart's Never Kiss a Rake, Never Trust a Pirate, and Never Marry a Viscount.

I might be a little mixed up on what you're never to do with this guy or that guy, but I'm sure you can figure it out.

Quick synopsis: three Victorian-era sisters each embark on an adventure to prove that their late father didn't embezzle and that he was murdered.

This trilogy is a lot of fun to read. When it came time to read the third book, I very happily sat on the couch with two sick kids while they watched kids' shows ad nauseum. I didn't even feel that guilty about missing work.

Bottom line: read them. They'll be worth the price of your favorite book medium, whether that's eBook form, real book form, or borrowed.

Enjoy!

BMBR: The Girl in the Box books 1-3 by Robrt J Crane

This "boxed set" was, and I think still is, free on Kindle. It's worth the price. I honestly and foolishly believed that it was a trilogy.

Ha ha ha! Feel free to laugh at me here.

Nope. The end of book three is a cliffhanger (just like books one and two. Actually, the ends of the books are the only times I remember having to read on), and it looks like I will have to shell out $5 a pop at least three times.

I can't say that the writing is good enough to justify the cost for me, but I won't tell you not to go for it.

If you're into books that are a bit like reading an X-Men movie (similar subject matter), then you should definitely try the free first three books on Kindle. I'll let you decide if you want to find out what happens after that.

My bottom line: I never made an effort to find time to read this like I do other books. It wasn't ever bad and it has potential, but it wasn't engaging enough for me to pay to continue on with the series.

Don't Shame Me in to Sharing

This lovely little cartoon was on Facebook.

If the caption above the cartoon had not said "Share if you are against bullying" above the strip, I definitely would have shared.

If the only caption that the cartoon had was "Share if you are against bullying," I might have shared.But since the second caption (the one below the cartoon) said, "I bet 99% won't," I'm not sharing.

Why?

Because I feel bullied (and like I'm being shamed).

This applies to ALL of those lovely cartoons/pictures/eCards that beautifully encourage you to espouse the indicated cause.

By all means, share and post pictures and cards and whatnot for the things that you believe in and hold dear to your hearts.

But please don't make me feel like you're going to think that I'm an asshole if I don't. How about you just share the card without the guilt trip?

I bet you more people would share.

AND, you'd know who shared because they WANTED to -- not because they thought that you'd think less of them for not sharing, and not because they don't have the guts to say, "Fuck off, you bully!"